The Art of Freedom
by HappyBee32
Summary: A series of poems for One Piece characters. For any character, Ace to Whitebeard, this series explores their thoughts and feelings, and what makes them the characters we all know and love. Companion series to 'The Boy in Red'. Requests accepted.
1. Merry: Loving

_**This is a companion story to The Boy in Red. However, due to the nature of these fics, there is no need to read it before this one.** The Boy in Red is a series of poems (much like this one) about each of the Strawhat Pirates, while The Art of Freedom is a less linear, more request based series about other characters in the One Piece fandom. This series may also repeat characters, so just because there is already a poem about them, does not mean there never will be another one (including the Strawhat Pirates). If there are any characters you wish a poem to be written about, leave their name in a review, and I will do my best to comply. Other than that, please enjoy!_

* * *

 **(The Art of Loving)**

* * *

A wisp of a mind in the wind

Before, she was scattered

But Love can tie together

Even a lonely soul in tatters

.

She's never sailed the sea before

Not like with these brave souls

She carries them through raging storms

And the calm sea's quiet lulls

.

Now she has set off with them

To the grandest sea, the highest sky

She'll take them where they want to go

To any world, just watch her try!

.

On adventures far and wide she's gone

To far off lands and waters

She's sailed treacherous seas before

Carrying to parties and to slaughters

.

They know she's there, to some extent

And that's all she could ever ask

For she's the luckiest ship on the seas

With carrying the future King her task

.

She knows her days are numbered now

Her hull is tired, her mast is weak

But she will die in a blaze of fire

So all will know that lambs aren't meek

.

She will not make their dreams come true

Her boards are too old and worn

But she's the one that will take them to

The next lucky ship to be born!


	2. Law: Accepting

Request by Monkey D. Anea

* * *

 **(The Art of Accepting)**

* * *

When he first sees the boy

Barely more than a child

Throw his life away

(Along with throwing that punch)

In that godforsaken place of human greed

Into the face of one thought untouchable

All he thinks is 'reckless'

And maybe a little bit admirable

.

When he connects the name

To the face

He doesn't know much about The Will

But he thinks

'Perhaps this is enough'

Too bad the kid's set for execution

(He's challenged the world already

Now, as per tradition, his Will must die)

.

(But, goddamnit, the boy actually _survives_ )

.

He's never met anyone

Quite so ready to tear the world asunder

As himself

Yet here's a boy

Running across stone and rock and blood

Challenging the world (again) for his brother

It's only natural that he thinks

'Perhaps he's the one'

And decides he'll save him

For his own sake

.

(Goddamnit, that's _all it is_ )

.

The next time they meet, he has a plan

One full of twists and turns

Where he'll ultimately come out on top

Except he'd forgotten the feeling

That made him save an enemy from death

Two years ago

And that's how everything goes wrong

(And maybe a little right, too)

.

He really tries to have ulterior motives

Tries to manipulate

And twist his words

But it's no use

In the face of such honesty

(And gullibility)

This alliance

Is supposed to be easy to warp

The kid's so simple and trusting

Yet he finds it's hard

To stop from warping into something else instead

.

(Goddamnit, he won't say _friendship_ )

.

When he tells the man on the bridge

Who ruined his already ruined life

All those years ago

That he will rely on The Will

What he really means

Is he'll rely on _him_

(Because it just seems to be

The sort of thing you can do

Where he's concerned)

He doesn't perform miracles

No- he challenges the world,

And _wins_

(And that's more than a miracle)

.

When he sees the boy- no, the _man_

(It's been two years, and he deserves that much)

Throw a black-fisted punch

That proves he chose right

He feels like it's finally over

(And just beginning)

He still wants to be King

But honestly, he wouldn't mind

Following orders

Under a different crown

(He'll only make _one_ exception)

.

He doesn't know

How either of them survived this long

(He admits, he's pretty reckless too)

But he's kind of glad

This alliance got out of his hands

.

(Goddamnit, the kid's still not his _nakama_ )

.

.

( _Maybe a little_ )


	3. Corazón: Talking

Request by Alder Niis

* * *

 **(The Art of Talking)**

* * *

His brother said:

Life was made for us

Death was made for them

.

Even with these words

Who would've thought

A little boy

With loving parents

Could believe so completely

In his right to the world's fate

To decide it must break

At his hands?

.

His brother said:

If you aren't a good little brother

A 'D.' will eat you up

.

The monsters that came

To eat naughty children

Was a fairy tale

But the enemies of god

And the terror they brought

Was all too real

They are destined for greatness

(Considering that

This boy is an 'enemy'

He will protect)

.

His brother said:

I will kill anyone

Who thinks themselves better

.

How ironic is it

That were he to have two brothers

Cut from the same cloth

With such blackened hearts

And crackling arrogances

Each would think the other

Worthy of death

.

His brother said:

I will protect you

And anyone who harms you will die

.

But here is a little boy

Already full of tragedy

Yet his heart is not blackened

(As much as he wishes it were)

How could he allow

Someone _so like himself_

To be killed

Over a little cut?

He will not - he _cannot_ \- tell

.

His brother said:

Tears are for the weak

The strong do not cry

.

And yet he's not ashamed

Standing there with tipping vision

Drink and tears tumbling the world

Six months have gone by

No wonder this boy wants no compassion

You have to learn to live _somehow_

In a world that won't give you any

.

His brother said:

The weak do not get to decide

The manner in which they die

.

He's lying there

The boy has escaped

He's too weak to stand

But he's fine with that

And smiles

Deciding

He never put too much stock

Into what his brother said anyway


	4. Ace: Living

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Living)**

* * *

When they first told you

You didn't deserve to live

You wondered

What the word 'demon' meant

And why it's a mistake

That you're alive

.

When they said

You were the son of the devil

You believed them

After all, people didn't get the title of 'Pirate King'

For helping those in need

.

When they yelled

And threw things

You screamed

And threw punches

'Cause maybe you didn't deserve the air you breathed

But they didn't deserve your tears

Or blood

.

When you met the boy in blue

Things started looking up

You're not sure about how happy you feel

Knowing this boy

But eventually,

You think he might just be a friend

(That's never happened before)

.

When you first see the other boy

Technically your brother (by adoption)

All you can think

Is 'weak'

He shouldn't be here

In the wild

He should be at home

With a mother and father

(No one smiles like that

In these woods)

.

Whenever you see this boy cry

All you can think

Is 'I don't deserve your tears'

And that's so confusing

You hit him to shut him up

Only to feel guilty about it later

.

When he is punched

Over and over again

Protecting a secret for you

(And the boy in blue)

When you see his blood drip

All you can think

Is 'I'll never deserve your blood'

Before you rush in

To make it stop

(Ironically enough, this is how he decides

Bleeding for your sake is okay

Not that you'd know that)

.

When you promise to be brothers

You know this bond is stronger than blood

You don't choose who you're related to

(You know better than most)

But as the sour smell of alcohol

Hits your senses

And you raise your red cup high

You chose your brothers

And they chose _you_

Not even blood beats that

.

When you lose _him_

One third of your life

Left with the boy in blue

You try to satisfy yourself with the knowledge

That he's free

(But why isn't that enough for you?)

.

When he makes you promise

Sitting atop that hill

To never die

All you can think

Is 'Of course not'

'Cause maybe you don't deserve the air you breathe

But this little boy

(Your _brother_ )

Deserves this much from you

And, you admit, probably a whole lot more

.

(How ironic that you find

Blood and tears and breath and _life_

Even promises you made in grief

Are nothing to you when it's for this boy

You thought was weak

But is _so much stronger_ )

He will live

No matter what anyone tells him

Right now

You'll make sure of that


	5. Sabo: Forgetting

Request by the girl who envies books

(Spoilers up to chapter 794)

* * *

 **(The Art of Forgetting)**

* * *

The boy never wanted to forget

These times as kids were more

Than he (the son) would ever get

In the 'noble' home he'd had before

.

But blood, fire, iron, and water

Can work their terrible, ghastly wonders

Gone are the days of his hateful father

But good days, the fire also plunders

.

Years later, here he is now, all grown

Except for the giant hole in his head

A forgotten past sad news has shown

To hold brothers, one grieving, one dead

.

Who knows how tables would've turned

Had he known of those days long ago

Perhaps his brother wouldn't have burned

But because he forgot, he'll never know

.

So he's thankful, and sad, and happy too

That their littlest is still around today

He's thanked him for making it through

And is sorry for not earlier finding his way

.

He's not a pirate, but he's still free

(And that's all that really counts)

He'll make this world the best it'll be

With revolutions his savior mounts

.

He'll take the fire, and disband

The terrible knowledge he's just regained

Think of the good and the future at hand

To unleash a beast fire and iron contained

.

'I'm alive!' He'll yell proudly someday

So all the people in the world will know

For _him_ and the one he couldn't save,

A brother's fire, now his, to the world he'll show


	6. Bentham: Deciding

Request by: Monkey D. Anea and laFia

(Bentham is also known as Bon Kurei, Bon Clay or Mr. 2)

* * *

 **(The Art of Deciding)**

* * *

He's six years old

And decides that he wasn't meant to be a boy

.

So he grows his hair out

Tries on a few dresses

And puts on makeup for the first time

.

He's ten years old

A little older, a little wiser

He ate a bad tasting fruit

Tried _actually_ being a girl for a bit

And decides it's not for him

Being a boy wasn't a mistake

He just has to choose what to do with it

.

So he cuts his hair

Signs up for both ballet lessons and martial arts

And takes the piercings out of his ears so they'd close up

But doesn't get rid of the dresses

Or stop wearing the makeup

.

He's fourteen years old

And decides he's much happier than he was

When he was nine

The whole world looks at him strangely

But he lives how he wants

.

So he ignores whispers and pointing

Because if they can't deal with his way of finding happiness

He'd rather not waste time worrying about what they think

.

He's fifteen years old

And meets a girl

With a bad burn scar under one eye

And two arms, but only one leg

And he decides he's never met

A more beautiful person

.

So, naturally, they become fast friends

She'll never sail or run or fight

(He thinks she could, but well, he thinks she could do anything)

But they still bond over their own kind of freedom

Not caring how the world looks at them

It's not love, but it was never meant to be

He teaches her how to use makeup

But she never covers her scar

And she teaches him how to shave

But he never picks up a razor

.

He's nineteen years old, and itching to go

Though he doesn't, until the wedding's over

He decides he can leave without worrying

Her husband's the good type,

One that helps her down stairs

But not across streets

(She's not incompetent)

And kisses her cheek, right on that ugly scar

So that she smiles like she can do anything

(He's glad she'd finally realized that)

.

So, he sails off, looking for something

Which he eventually finds out is a crew

Misfits just as crazy

And eccentric

And flamboyant as he is

Friends make him happier than anything else

The world can stare and point

But he won't care

They're just wasting their time

.

He's twenty five years old, and they offer him a job

To be honest, he's a bit flattered

And decides to accept

It doesn't make him happy

But it doesn't make him sad, either,

And he can _feel_ that this job will gain him a friend

.

So, when he comes across the little pirate crew

And performs a bit

Changing faces and dancing and such

Only for their captain to laugh with glee

A scar under one eye

And smiling like he could do anything

They're fast friends

And he gets a bit a bit nostalgic

He does't care if they're technically enemies

He's a friend before he's Mr. 2

And he saves them like he would any true friend!

.

He's twenty six years old when he sees the kid again

His friend that reminds him of a long time ago

He never expected to see him here, of all places,

In the heat and sand

But he _is_ here, so he laughs and dances

Because, he decided, that's what you do

When reuniting with old friends

(Even in the most secure prison in the world)

.

So they travel together,

Down farther into Hell

For the sake of his friend's brother

It's only natural

That's the kind of thing you do for friends

And he can tell

This boy is one of the best

.

He's twenty six years old when he saves his friend

And his idol

Deciding the consequences don't matter

Because nothing is more important than friendship

Not life

Or death

Or the world

(And especially not what it thinks)

.

So they can stare and point and lock him away

He can starve, or freeze, or yell himself hoarse

But he won't waste time worrying about any of that

Because it's not worth the energy

(He'd rather be dancing)

To care about what people think

When he's already decided he's happy


	7. Sunny: Dreaming

Request by laFia

* * *

 **(The Art of Dreaming)**

* * *

The dream of a man that dreamed more than all

He built with his hands her deck, mast and hull

His dream is to sail far with a crew so sure

To reach all the seas the King will conquer

.

She has the soul of a lion, king of all beasts

The ship of a King should be this much, at least

She's not the first, but she'll carry them on

The lamb has now set, it's time for the dawn

.

Her light, her sun, will light the way

The brightest of suns in darkest of days

She'll serve her crew and brave nakama well

And sail through the water where dark shadows dwell

.

She's made her preparations, all set to sail

But there's two years to wait, on tooth and nail

She's patient, and ready, and revving to start

But without her crew, even a lion hasn't a heart

.

It's been too long now, but she's finally free!

She and her crew'll sail off under the sea

To islands of fish, fire, toys, swords, and ice

The call of adventure her lion heart entice

.

She'll take them to a thousand islands, seas and places

The lamb may have left, but the brave lion still faces

The wonders of worlds, full of islands and mystery

The king of the beasts will make this new king's history!

.

Her dream is to sail, with a sure crew at her side

All hateful people will cower, all enemies will hide

For she is the sun of her crew whose love pours

Beware, world, of the challenge- when a fearsome lion roars!

* * *

There are quite a few requests backed up, so please be patient if you've made a request.

I plan on eventually writing a poem for all of them, but please understand that **requests will work on a first come, first serve basis**. That being said, **if you make multiple requests at once (which is fine with me), I will probably choose one of them to write for, and the others are put on hold** until other requests are taken care of. I am keeping a list of all the names people suggest, and **the more times a character is requested, the more likely I will write for that person** (this is the one thing that will probably break up the first come, first serve policy). Some poems are already written, but I will forego posting them until they are either asked for, there is a gap in requests, or I feel that they need to be posted (Ace and Sabo's are examples of this).

 **If you are a guest, I will still write a poem at your request. However, if you want to have your name at the top, leave a name for me to call you** (otherwise, the poem will not have a dedication).

Additionally, if you would like me to **PM you when your requested poem is posted** , just let me know.

Finally, I think I mentioned this in my first author's note (as you can tell, they don't happen often), but just to make it clear, **requesting Strawhat Pirates is totally okay**. 'The Boy in Red' is complete, but that does not mean 'The Art of Freedom' is exclusively other characters- it just seems to be a theme.

Thank you to all the people who read, favorited, followed and reviewed this story, and please continue to send me your ideas, or let me know what you thought of your requests! I love to hear from readers, and while I may not respond to you in chapters, your words are greatly appreciated.

Happy


	8. Dragon: Thinking

Request by Kagamine Miharu

* * *

 **(The Art of Thinking)**

* * *

He is the very definition

Of 'loving from a distance'

His job is to rock and tip the world

Into a new age

Where life is better

And shady old men

Don't run the world

(Sometimes, though, he wishes it wasn't)

.

They never really knew each other

(He wouldn't be surprised

If the boy didn't even know his father is alive)

And as much as he hates the government

He doesn't think of any option

Other than leaving his boy

In the care of the 'hero of the marines'

(The fact that the man's his father

Doesn't even come into play

Not when it's the safety of his own child

On the line)

.

Sometimes he finds himself thinking

Not of revolutions

Or supplies

Or governments and what he can do

To topple them

But of a little boy

(Who probably looks more like his mother)

In the calmest sea

Yelling and laughing and having fun in life

(Sometimes, he finds himself wishing

He was there to see it)

.

Someday, the world will find out

And it will shake it to the core

In a way he never intended

The fact that this could help the cause

Doesn't even occur to him

(Not when it's the life of his child on the line)

.

And he'll wait until the day comes

That he can sit the boy down

(His own flesh and blood)

And explain who he is

And why he was never around

He's thought about how it would turn out

Every possible outcome

He's foreseen tears

And yelling

And accusations

(The boy has every right

To be angry at the father who wasn't there)

.

He's thought over all the ways

They could reunite

But it isn't until he sees a picture

With a world sized grin

A little scar

A straw hat

And spiky black hair

That he thinks

Perhaps he and this boy

Won't meet in the midst of tears

Yelling

Or accusations

He feels like this boy

Would ask him for the story of his life

Not because he wants justification

But because he wants to hear the story

Of what lead them to that place

And that time

.

Neither of them are heroes

But this picture tells him the boy

Is free and happy

And even if he wishes he was a part

Of the life that lead his boy

To where he is now

Freedom

Is all he's ever wanted

For his son

(And he has his mother's smile)


	9. Roger: Dying

Request by Sienna and Kagamine Miharu

(There's a secret message; see if you can find it)

* * *

 **(The Art of Dying)**

* * *

People look at him

Like he'll make the earth quake

And sky fall

He wants to tell them

He's just a man

With a boy's heart

Looking for adventure

.

If he did not hear

The sea's call of freedom

Perhaps he'd be sitting at home

Peacefully

Waiting out his days

With a wife

And child

.

Revolutionaries are fine and all

But he is no hero

He will not sacrifice his life

For the betterment of others

It's just not in his nature

If he has food

He'd rather eat

Than share

(Besides, he's doing a pretty fine job

Of turning the world upside-down)

.

After he's gone

He hopes to usher in

A new age of pirates

Who follow their dreams

And go on adventures

Like he has

He thinks the world

Could use a few more people like that

.

Thinking of what he could've had

Had he never set sail

Makes him ache

And thank fate

All at the same time

He has found and lived so much

More than most do

In lifetimes

Yet he gave up the chance

To live with a family

Of his own blood

(Nakama are beloved brothers,

But children and wives are a little different)

He wonders what his child will think of him

After he's gone

Though hearing the words of others

When they speak of devils and demons

In the same sentence as his own name

Makes him decide

He'd rather not know

(He curses the nature of mortality

And how it has damned the good graces

Of his own son)

.

Everything has changed

Since he began his journey

As much as he's tipped other people's worlds

The same world has tipped for him

Secrets that were never meant to be known

Histories never meant to be revealed

He is not happier for knowing

Yet life shrouded in lies

Was never the kind of freedom

He wanted

For himself

Or anyone

(He may not be a hero

Or a revolutionary

But he's still a man

With a boy's heart

And belief that life should be fair)

.

Killing has never been his style

He'd rather laugh

And drink

Than spill blood

How ironic is it

That his crew probably saves more lives

Than the marines

They are just looking for some fun

They just want to live freely

Yet calling themselves 'pirates'

Makes them villains

Instead of heroes

(Though honestly,

He's fine with that)

.

If his son becomes a marine

(He did entrust him with The Fist)

Well, good for him,

He won't be disappointed

But maybe a little sad

That his boy won't know the freedom

He has known

He wishes he could sit his child down

And tell him the stories

Of islands and worlds he's saved and seen

Better than any bedtime story

He blames sickness

And marines

For making his life

A tale of horror

Rather than wonder

.

Never did he call himself the King

That was the other's doing

But he doesn't mind, really

It's just two words

To say he is freer than most

And that's not something

He would want to deny

.

Gone are the days of simple joy

Where clear skies and new land

Are all it takes to make him happy

He doesn't have much time left

And if he can beckon in a new age

Tip the world with his Will

By the time it runs out

Then he doesn't mind dying

By an executioner's blade

Sitting atop the wood

Watching over people that call

And cry for his life

(In joy or sorrow

Depends on the person)

 _Looking at the start of things_

 _He never would have guessed_

 _His future would spell out 'PIRATE KING'_

But as he bleeds

With a smile

His only regret

Is he wishes he was there

To tell bedtime stories

And look for a little more adventure


	10. Shanks: Sacrificing

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Sacrificing)**

* * *

Out of all the things

To seriously hurt him

He never expected a sea king

Next to a peaceful island

In the weakest sea

.

Maybe he did bemoan the loss of an arm

(He tells his crew

It's because you can drink faster with two

But really, come on,

It's his _arm_ )

But he also knows he'd do it again

Just like all the important things in life

.

Jumping into the water

To save a boy who couldn't swim

Was 90 percent instinct

And 10 percent thought out

Because one tenth of his brain

Sees his former captain

When he looks at this boy

.

(They don't really act _alike_ ,

But then again, he never knew his captain

As a five year old,

But the boy does talk about freedom the same way

And this is how he always imagined him as)

.

When the kid cries over his bleeding arm

(Or lack of one)

He is surprised

Because 90 percent of his brain just caught up

With what he'd done

And he doesn't regret it

Something he thought only his captain

And nakama

Could ever do

.

(This boy is something special)

So he takes his most beloved treasure

Off his head

And places it on the boy's

Because no one every made him feel like this

Since his captain, years ago

.

He feels a little empty

Without a reminder on his head

So he drinks a bit too much that night

But in the morning

With a splitting headache

And tumbling vision

He finds

He still doesn't regret it

.

Years later,

When he sees the poster

Brought by a grumpy swordsman

Who looks a little too interested

To call indifferent

(Something about a swordsman with potential)

He laughs and thanks the world

That the idiot didn't fall into the sea

(Not that he expected that, anyway

That boy is something special)

.

He left one tenth

Of his world with that boy

Along with a whole arm

He never expected to lose

Yet still he finds

He's incredibly happy

And knows his captain

Would've been proud

.

(That boy is something _special_ )


	11. Olivia: Knowing

Request by Alder Niis

* * *

 **(The Art of Knowing)**

* * *

Dear daughter

Please remember

Mommy loves you

And daddy would too

I'm sorry I'm busy

But someday I'll come home

And we'll have all the time in the world

I'll teach you the names

Of all the stars and constellations

And tell you bedtime stories

About people from long ago

.

Dear daughter

I hope you are doing well

Studying hard

And eating all your vegetables

I'm sure I don't need to worry

(I've heard those are normal parental concerns)

You always were a good girl

.

Dear daughter

Please do not be too angry

I'm looking for the truth

So the world may know

And when I get back

You'll be the first person I tell

(It'll be our little secret)

.

Dear daughter

You deserve a better mother

I'll understand

If you never see me as one

But if I can't be your mother,

Then while you grow up

I'll be your best friend

I'll be your older sister

And your closest confident

So you know

When you meet a boy

Who sweeps you off your feet

And out to sea

Far away from home

You can tell me all about him

Just you and me

Against the world

.

Dear daughter

I didn't put research before you

I hope you know this

When I learned

You could read the letters

Of civilizations long past

(You always were a bright girl)

I knew that if I didn't go

And brave seas

And rebel against governments

And become a liability

To every person who wanted lies

To become our history

Then they would find someone else

And you always were a bright girl

.

Dear daughter

Please live

Please run away

Please go on without me

I hope

With all my heart

That you will not search

As I have done

For the truth

But it also makes me incredibly happy

That I know

With all my heart

You will

.

Dear daughter

If I had more time

I'd teach you the names

Of all the stars and constellations

I'd make sure you ate your vegetables

(But I'd buy ice cream for desert)

I'd tell you all my secrets

And stories

I'd listen, your best friend,

As you tell me about the boy who swept you away

I'd protect you

No matter how many seas I must brave

And know I'd love you

With all my heart

.

But my time is now past

I'll just be a footnote

In what I'm sure will be

Your chapter of history

Go and live bravely, daughter

Make your own stories

Be swept away

And be proud in all you do

.

(I'm sure you will

You always were a good girl)


	12. Franky: Building

Request by MrRedDead

* * *

 **(The Art of Building)**

* * *

When he first fixed something

It was a toy

He broke

(Only half on accident)

He put it back together

Piece by piece

Until it was whole again

And the feeling of it

(Of making something

With his own two hands)

Gave him the chills

(Next time, it isn't an accident at all)

.

The first time he builds something,

He makes a sailboat

Just a little thing

That won't even stay straight up in the water

(Too top-heavy)

And as he watches it tip

And roll

He decides the next one

Will be perfect

(Chain reaction is an understatement)

.

Soon, he's building furniture

And doors

And toys

But nothing compares to the feeling

Of letting his (second) little sailboat go

And having it drift

Without faltering

Through the roiling water

(When he helps build his first _actual_ ship

He feels like the wood

Is warm to his fingers

And the wind

Almost sounds like whispers

He wouldn't be surprised

If someone told him

Ships had souls)

.

The first time he fixes himself

He tries to convince

His own head

That people are just like ships

They are warm to the touch

Whisper in your ears

And have souls

How hard could it be?

(Very hard, apparently, and painful, too,

But he leaves his hands alone

As much as he can

Because he still wants to be able to feel

Warm wood

And humming metal

Against his fingers)

.

When his friend (almost father) dies

He swears off the feeling

Of warm wood

And the sound

Of whispers

He will not touch

A hammer

Or nail

Or soul

Again

.

Then the boy sweeps in

Like a hurricane

Destroying and ripping

His enemies

He's just glad

He isn't (still) considered one

He swore off the feeling of warmth

And souls

And creating

But this boy is going to be

King of the Pirates

(He can't leave a man

Without a ship

Worthy of his title)

.

He gets the chills

When he builds her

A better feeling

Than ever before

This one's soul is strong

Her wood is burning

And ready to sail

(He doesn't really mind

When he's dragged along

For the ride)

.

When he reads the words

That tell him

His friend (his _captain_ )

Is hurting

His heart breaks a little

But when he sees the letters

And numbers

That tell him his captain

His _friend_

Is still alive

And trusting them to understand

He's thankful

(Two years is nothing)

.

When he debates making 'modifications'

He knows what will make him stronger

A better fighter

Yet he still hesitates;

He'll never feel

Warm wood

Or humming metal

Against his fingers

As he builds

But he remembers

He's built the best ship in the world

(She'll carry them to the end)

He has done his work in fixing

And building

He has built this life

These friendships

Now he must do his work

In protecting them

With his own two hands

(And metal is stronger than skin)

.

(And if his nakama

Are warm and bright

Enough for him to feel it

Thousands of miles away

In some godforsaken laboratory

He'll be able to feel it

No matter what his hands are made of)

* * *

New one-shot will be posted soon: Tend to Grieve

 _Even when they are gone, he remains. Though, he's not quite the same..._


	13. Newgate: Standing

Request by Lil'OldNarcissisticMe

* * *

 **(The Art of Standing)**

* * *

He's seen oceans roil

And skies split open

He has felt both powerful

And insignificant

In the face of enemies

And even nature itself

Such is the nature of a man

Who stands at the top of the world

.

He has made both enemies

And friends

And known people

Who were a little bit of both

Yet nothing can compare

To the feeling

Of having people at your side

Not as friends or enemies or somewhere in-between

But as family

.

These men are sons to him

They are sons of the sea

And he is the sea itself

Roiling

Dangerous

And untamable

Is his blade

He will take these men

Gather them beneath his sails

And seek adventure

Such is the nature of the man

Who stands atop the world

.

Family is more important than anything

Not life

Not death

Not power or order

Can compare

To the bonds created

By hard days of work

And battles of iron and blood

(And maybe, perhaps, a little sake thrown in as well)

.

He can see potential

As clearly as the sun or sky

Each man he takes aboard

Possesses the will

And the fight

To sail the seas

There are some with more than others

And some who have already achieved it

But sometimes, he looks at his rival's son

And senses that this boy

May just be the cause

Of the world splitting open

.

When one of his sons dies

He grieves like any father would

But when one of his sons kills

A brother

In cold blood

His veins are filled with icy fury

Enough to shake mountains

He is no longer intimidated by mother nature

When she causes the sky to split open

(That was many years ago),

Now,

 _He_ is the one carving into the thunder

.

Life goes on,

Until he finds

His new plan is not to avenge a son

But save one

And when he sees the battlefield

Filled with white coats

And brimming tension

He knows this will decide

How the world tips

For the sake of himself, he does not care

He has been tipping the world

For a long time already

But for the sake of his sons,

He sincerely hopes

It will tip in his favor

.

(How cruel that the Devil

Gave him the power to shake worlds

Yet he cannot save his own son)

.

As he bleeds,

He remains standing

For there are three things the world

Cannot take from him

.

He is the man

Who stands

At the top of the world

.

He has seen oceans roil

And skies split

He is powerful in the face of both

.

And he will stand, no matter what,

For his sons

They are the sons of the sea

And the sea cannot fall

He is roiling

Dangerous

And untamable

Not even grief

Or wounds

Or death itself

Will bring him to his knees

(Such is the nature of the strongest man:

Still standing)


	14. ASL: Rising

Request by Monkey D. Anea

(Another hidden message in the last three lines)

* * *

 **(The Art of Rising)**

* * *

He has a father

Who died in the shame

And hate of the world

.

He has a father

Who lives in excess

Looking down on the world

.

He has a father

Who survives in hiding

Challenging the world

.

Joy has found it's way

Into their hearts

And defines them (together)

.

Who but these three

Could come together

And form a bond of brothers?

.

He is accepted

The son of the devil

Demon no more

.

He is freed

The son of the noble

Suffocated no more

.

He is protected

The son of the wanted

Lonely no more

.

His father found freedom

In living to the utmost

Hated for his brand of joy

.

His father found freedom

In money and riches

Nobility's love for discrimination

.

His father found freedom

In causing others

To think outside the World

.

Who but these three

Could come together

And form a bond of brothers?

.

Hatred of his father

Disdain of his father

Ignorance of his father

.

These three brothers

Bound in all but blood

Will raze the world

.

Fathers do not define

The world may see different

Only they will rise above it

.

As sure as sea and sky

So these boys are brothers before sons

Looking for their own freedom!


	15. Buggy: Sailing

Request by Monkey D. Anea

* * *

 **(The Art of Sailing)**

* * *

Pepper and pickles and gold and tattoos

That's what makes a pirate a pirate

Hot sauce and metal and women and booze

Pirates are rulers, killers and tyrants

.

He's sailed seas with the best of them all

He's lived through storms and islands of steel

He's spent his life answering the ocean's call

He can kill, drink, fight, run and steal

.

He once told a boy he knew long ago

If he couldn't be merciless, heartless and cruel

Then he'd never escape the pirate low

He'd always swab decks, forever the fool

.

(The fact that said boy grew up to be

A man of great power and worth

One of the most scariest man on the sea

Says nothing, he's just was the first)

.

He never expected to soon come across

Another young boy such as _he_

Who thought that and sailing and being the boss

Was the silliest thing he could possibly be

.

Yet here is a boy, a child no less,

Who sails with a smile and lives with a laugh

Who's worth (to the World) more than you'd guess

This boy carves his own (strange) pirate path

.

So while he may respect the captains in red

To whom carnage and blood is their call

Seeing where this young boy's path has led

Makes him think 'it's not so bad after all'

.

Laughter and mercy and adventure and joy

(Maybe some treasure as well)

These are the things

That make pirates _Kings_

And this boy's got 'em

(He can tell)

* * *

 **I'm all caught up with requests again** , at least on the first come, first serve ones. Now, I will go back and write for the other suggestions from people who made multiple requests, unless new requests come in (then, those take first priority).

Thank you for your patience, and for reading this story.

Happy


	16. Corazón: Playing

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Playing)**

* * *

Brothers are supposed to be caring and kind

Yet now he's stopping the storm

His deplorable brother's has long had in mind

For the world since the day he was born

Pieces and pieces, each torn bit will fall

With his madness and anger and hatred in Spades

Unless he succeeds in stopping it all

This plan of destruction he's had pervades

.

He'll stay silent, and quiet, the Devil within

Trapping his sound, a secret most dear

Knowledge that having will allow him to win

His silence uncovered plays as his fear

Puppets and rubble, blood and fires he'll halt

Swords, arrows and Clubs at the ready

Prevent all deaths from his family's fault

Lives can't be in ashes for feelings so petty

.

Sickness and hatred and death, all bound

It's the only world this child has known

On a whim, he declared, a cure must be found

And whisked him away with kindness he's shown

How sad, unfair, how cruel and unusual

Diamonds encasing a heart made of gold

This child has suffered a harsh fate most brutal

No wonder his eyes speak of horrors untold

.

He'll save him, and tell him, and give him his best

The boy will survive this, no matter puppets or fire

He'll do all he can and hope someone plays out the rest

He'll bet all and rescue him, this boy, without tire

He's not black and twisted, and flipped end over end

Spades are too warped, and Diamond's to hard

Clubs are too brutal, with only violence to rend

But the boy's got a Heart, no matter how scarred


	17. Marco: Burning

Request by Guest and Lil'OldNarcissisticMe

* * *

 **(The Art of Burning)**

* * *

He burns

Anger and hatred

Sadness and longing

Life is not fair

The universe is not perfect

He feels like these lessons

Have etched their way into his skin

Right in the center of his chest

.

He burns with a fire that will destroy him

He drowns

In the world he knows

Before fathers, and brothers

And days sailing

With nothing but adventure

And blue skies

To look forward to

He's not the only one that started off bad

Not the first

Nor the last

Not even the worst

.

But all the same, he drowns

.

He survives

Against all odds

Just the same as his new father

And brothers

Life has thrown everything it has

Yet he perseveres

He may not be _living_ quite yet

But he's sure it won't take long

.

He _will_ survive

.

He thinks

While he eats

On the terrible fruit

It tastes like ash

He feels like he's dying

And being born

And seeing for the first time

And drowning

And flying

All at once

It's a beautiful, terrible, _frightening_ feeling

.

He thinks (and eats) some more

.

He falls

Every time

He tries to stretch the wings

He can practically _feel_ in his fingers

Out, out

So that feathers of burning blue

Can touch the air,

He just falls

.

Only to try again, and fall a little slower this time

.

He fights

He fights for himself

Like any pirate would

And he fights for his father

Like any son would

Ripping and tearing

Scorching and punching his enemies

Until there's nothing left but ash

And he is the only one to remember

Their sins against him

(Or worse, his father)

.

And so he fights

.

He soars

Wings come easy now

Blue against blue skies

Or the gray storm of battle

He watches from the skies

Content with the world he now knows

Seeing brothers walk about below

The entirety of his life

Is stretched out

On one ship

In one ocean

He could fly by

Without ever noticing

(But that's not the point)

He watches his family from the clouds

.

He's free when he soars

.

He burns

He heals, and live, and dies, and is born again

All together, all at once,

Burning with life

His gratitude for the man

Who showed him what life can be

It's etched into his skin

Right in the center of his chest

.

He may drown,

But his brothers will save him

He will survive,

And live a little too

He thinks

It couldn't be better

He falls

But not often, and not for long

He fights

Fiercer, with more reason than ever

He soars

Freedom is his, and his to share

.

And he burns with a fire so bright

He will always rise again


	18. Bellamy: Forgiving

Request by Monkey D. Anea

* * *

 **(The Art of Forgiving)**

* * *

He's a pirate

It's as simple as that

And pirates are mean

And terrifying

And dark and bloodthirsty

(As captain, it's his duty

To be as mean and bloodthirsty as they come)

.

He doesn't have any honor

Or dreams

Dreams are for children

And fools

.

When he sees the kid

Scrawny and innocent-eyed

He convinces himself he's doing the kid a favor

Sure, the brat might wake up tomorrow

With two black eyes

A split lip

And a little less hope in the world

But he won't survive as a pirate

(Especially not as a captain)

If he keeps believing in fairy tales

(He tells himself that

As he smashes the scrawny, innocent eyed boy's face

Into the counter)

.

Next time he sees the kid, he's got a look

A glint in his eye that says he means business

He hesitates

Before shaking it off

(After all, what can the kid do,

No matter what price there is on his head?)

Apparently a whole lot,

And he thinks of that innocent look

The kid wore

While he talked about islands in the sky

As he feels his jaw cracking

Under the force of a punch

Thrown by someone he was convinced

Would never hurt a fly

.

Pirates have to be strong

He knows that

But fools

And children

Are not

So it's no surprise

His conviction

Concerning fairy tales

And make believe

Is shaken

The kid is a captain

And strong

(Before he thought he was just a child

And a fool

For believing in the impossible)

He isn't so sure anymore

About dreams

(And he decides

The only way to truly know

Is to find out for himself)

.

It's surprising

How much brighter things seem

When carnage

And destruction

Is not their destination

He still likes a good fight

But now he knows

There is a _reason_ to fight

He has no right

To forgive the brat

For something he brought upon himself

But he decides

Then and there

Standing on top of clouds in a land no more than myth

That the next time he sees him

He won't be the one to start a fight

(Not if he can help it)

.

When he does see the kid again

He decides

This boy

Is not a boy after all

But a captain

And certainly not a fool

He may not be the brightest

But intelligence was never a quality needed

To be a captain

He has voiced his faith to a king

Yet his loyalty

Belongs to this pirate

(Who may be a King anyway)

He is just sorry

For not believing in the first place

.

He's a pirate

It's as simple as that

And pirates are mean

And terrifying

And dark and bloodthirsty

(As captain, it's his duty

To be as mean and bloodthirsty as they come)

But a requirement to being a pirate

Is to have a hatred of rules

And common conceptions

Pirates are mean

But he is loyal

And fearsome

And excited and free

Because before he is a pirate, he's a friend

And he knows

As he raises his blade

(Against his will)

To strike at the lean and frenzy-eyed captain

He is forgiven


	19. Rayleigh: Watching

Request by laFia

* * *

 **(The Art of Watching)**

* * *

Watching

As a stranger calls out

Talking about sailing

And adventures

They will have

Makes him a little wistful

(Until said stranger

Makes it clear

He was planning on sailing

And having adventures

In _his_ boat)

That makes him a little indignant

And kind of happy

.

Watching

As the idiot

Accidently crushes a building

To rubble

( _Again_ )

Makes him exasperated

(And no, he is most certainly _not_ smiling)

.

Watching

As slowly, their crew

Becomes bigger

He finds himself in the position

Of 'first mate' and 'discipliner'

(He thought that duty

Would fall to the captain

But he finds himself reeling his friend back

From his crazy schemes

More often than anyone else)

No one ever declared he was first mate

Certainly not the captain

But just because it wasn't said

Doesn't mean it isn't true

.

Watching

As your best friend

Make his dream come true

And finds his freedom

Is incredible

Watching

From his side

As he pulls you along for the ride

Is even better

.

Watching

As the world curses their names

Is a funny feeling

But they are strong

They are young

And immortal

Their world is held together

By adventure

And excitement

And he has never been happier

And he laughs

Because the world doesn't know

His captain

(No matter what kind of crew he captains)

Is a good man

.

Watching

As his friend learns

His life is almost up

Is like a slap to the face

Like someone is squeezing his throat

But he still has _years_

He knows now

They are not immortal

But his heart doesn't believe it

(Someone as strong as his captain

His friend

Does not die)

.

(Right?)

.

Watching

As they come together again

A crew held together

By determination

And a desperation

For adventure

Is both uplifting

And makes him confused

Soon, they're back to exploring

And his captain still accidently

Knocks down buildings

So he decides

It must be nothing

.

Watching

As his friend

Tears through the world

To reach the end of it

Is a little bit electrifying

It makes him

(Usually the level headed one)

Want to rip up islands

And fight everyone he comes across

He doesn't feel _violent_

But he's restless

.

Watching

As his captain is taken

Is excruciating

He wants to yell

To the ocean

They have sailed

For these many long years

And the sky

And the whole world

That his a man as strong as his captain

Cannot die

No matter how old

Or sick

Or _free_ he is

.

Watching

As blood spills

Staining red coats redder

Makes him feel

Like the world has dropped

Out from underneath him

He wants to tell his captain

His _friend_

That he cannot die

He has to be immortal

Because there are more islands to go to

More adventures to have

More seas to sail

And more buildings to turn to rubble

He wants to tell him

That he cannot show up

Out of nowhere

Talking about freedom

And sailing on _his_ boat

And just _leave_

(It does not matter that,

Logically,

They did all those things

There is always _more)_

 _._

Watching

As people cheer

Unbelieving

And elated

That the man they cursed

Is finally gone

His world crumbles

He has never felt this way

And he wishes

It would all disappear

The screaming crowds

The drinks people share

Their toasts to long life

And the mothers

Who are happy

Their child won't grow up

In the age of the Pirate King

And he cries

Because the world doesn't know

His captain

Is a good man

(And now, they never will)

* * *

 **New one shot _Tend to Grieve_ is posted.**

Summary:

Even when they are gone, he remains. Though, he's not quite the same... (and maybe they aren't entirely gone at all)

 **Thank you guys for all your support and requests!**


	20. Garp: Hoping

Request by the girl who envies books

* * *

 **(The Art of Hoping)**

* * *

When the man he hunted

For more years than he could count

Asked him to not let his own sins

Stain the life of his child

He was nervous

.

He's a marine

Justice is his job

His moral compass

And his life

Yet here is the man

Who goes against all of that

Asking him to protect his son

.

He's afraid

He'll see that child

And see some sort of evil in him

.

But when he lays eyes on the Brat

Months after the boy's father is dead

He only sees big black eyes

A tuft of black hair

And a freckle or two on one cheek

He never really thought about being a grandfather

(With a son like his

Things like that don't occur to you)

But as he picks the brat up

He swears the kid smiled

.

He swore to himself he wouldn't get attached

Because this is the son

Of the worst

And it doesn't do

To hope for impossible outcomes

(So much for that)

Not one to break promises,

He compromises

And swears

This child

Won't turn out like the last on he raised

(Two counts like that

Would probably break his old heart)

.

When he actually calls his son

And drops a hint or two

About how great kids are

(Even as the Brat is tipping and rolling all over his lap)

Between blatant insults

About what an unjust bastard he is

(The irony escapes him)

He never expected his hints would be answered

(And certainly not with what came of it

His biological grandson

Is just as much a Brat

As his father

And here he was, hoping

That the urge to find justice

Had just skipped a generation)

.

When the Brat grows old enough

To make his way through the world

He drops the kid off

At an old friend's place

And leaves with words about marines

And justice

.

By the time his biological Brat

Has survived some pretty crazy shit

He decides it's time

For the _real_ training to begin

But before he gets around to it

That idiot from _that_ crew

Comes along and ruins everything

With just a few words

A hat

And an arm

(If he was there, he could've done it

And said something about marines

Instead of pirates)

Now, his own flesh and blood

Talks about treasures and adventures

And freedom

He wants to tell the kid

That the marines can give him that

But he's no liar

(When you wear a white coat

While breaking down a wall

You're expected to _fix_ it,

Instead of just running away laughing)

.

(That doesn't stop him from trying)

.

So he drops his biological Brat off

At the bandit's place

So he can become a good marine

(The irony escapes him)

The Brats will get along great

(Probably. Eventually.)

.

Soon, he discovers

That a third Brat has been added

To the equation

And it all comes up to be

A couple of kids

With crazy ideas of being pirates

He tries,

But there are some things

Not even Love can cure

(And he breaks a little on the inside,

But there's still hope)

.

Fast forward a few years,

And he's watching his biological Brat

Run across bloody stone

Screaming and punching

While his other Brat

Kneels and cries out

About how idiotic everyone is

His freckles covered in dirt

And his black hair stained with blood

.

As his old friend

Announces to the world

The name of his Brats' fathers

He breaks a little more

Wondering if he's cursed

Three children

And not one becomes

A good, honest marine

There's not much hope left

.

(Goddamnit, his old heart can't take it)

.

And when he watches

Lava and fists and holes and tears

Listens to the cries of his grandson

And he wants the world to burn

Because he sees this child,

His Brat, that he raised,

Watching him take his first steps

Hearing his first words

Teaching him how to read

He sees him, and doesn't see evil

Just black hair

A few more freckles

Closed eyes

(But he knows they're black)

And he swears the kid is smiling

(He hoped

And promised

This would never happen

World,

What more do you want?)  
.

Watching his grandson scream

Blood and dust on his fingers

He finds the real question is,

 _World, what more can you take?_

Because he wants to say

Right now

That Brat is off limits

This is not Justice

And his old heart can't take it

.

(Though it never did help to hope for impossible things)

* * *

I apologize for the updates time schedule, but I assure you, where I am, these are posted every day before 12:00 am my time. It didn't occur to me until just now that, depending on where you are, these may not be coming in on the day they're posted (again, my time).

On another note, please check out my new one shot, Tend to Grieve! I put a teaser in the last chapter, and it's my first time posting something that isn't poetry, so feedback is appreciated (also, does anyone know how to fix having problems with the view counter? People have reviewed and favorited Tend to Grieve, but it doesn't show up). I am also currently writing a series of drabbles, which I will begin posting when they are complete. Thank you for your support and requests!

Happy


	21. Dandan: Caring

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Caring)**

* * *

She watches them grow

The little mischievous brats

And tries to convince them

Of the better things in life

Like picking up their things

And eating politely

And washing the dishes after dinner

.

(Not even

Her tender loving care

Can stop the little snots

From living how they want to)

Though, somewhere

In the back of her mind

She respects them for that

.

She first met

The little snot that insane old man dropped off

With a stamped toe

And a spit ball to the face

That kid had more problems

Than she could count

(She tries her best

But leading a group of mountain bandits

Doesn't really lend itself

To learning how to raise a child)

He seems fine, though,

If a little moody

(And if she makes sure

In the wintertime

To put the warm blankets

On the bottom shelf

Where he can reach,

Well,

She doesn't say anything)

.

The second kid comes along

Already joined at the hip

With the old man's brat

They plot and scheme

Like rats

Out in the woods

She doesn't see him much

But she's thankful:

(No matter what kind

Of insane idesas they're cooking up

She has a roll of bandages

And a bucket of water

At the ready)

The moody brat is smiling a little more

.

The old man's grandson

(Which is just as much a word

For _doom_ inside a small body

As _brat_ or _snot_ )

Just adds a whole new level of crazy

Meat didn't last a day in their hut before

Now it doesn't last five seconds

Feeding one kid was hard enough

But as soon as that shitty guy's grandsons start getting along

A _third_ kid is added to the equation

The one she's seen running around the forest

And it seems like everything's just gone to shit

(If she still boils water

So that the bath will be extra warm on cold nights

Then she doesn't mention it)

.

As she watches them make their way

Mischievously out the door

A long coat trailing behind them

And that bastard's snot nosed grandson

Talking about ramen

She just scowls

Because the alternative is smiling

(And she's a _mountain bandit_ , for God's sake)

She's glad they have each other

Because if these three boys are together

Nothing will stop them

(She can't imagine

One of them without the others)


	22. Aokiji: Enforcing

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Enforcing)**

* * *

He usually thinks of himself

As a laid back sort of person

He enjoys sunny days

And hot baths

(Which surprises most people)

He would use the word 'chill'

If it didn't sound so much like a bad pun

.

He does fight for Justice

But just as much

As 'Freedom' can mean different things

To different people,

'Justice' means something else to him

Than most other marines

(If he was comparing his Justice to others,

He'd probably say The Fist's was most similar

But he can't figure out

What the old man is thinking

Half the time anyway)

.

He's not uptight, line for line by the book,

Like the Fleet Admiral is

Or obsessive and destructive like that red dog

Or even shallow and joking

Like the light bulb

He has his own brand of justice

.

Some might say he's relaxed

In his beliefs

(He thinks they're wrong,

But there's no need to use the time

Or energy

To point that out)

The people who know him

Would say the opposite

He believes

In absolute justice

For absolute evil

.

If there was one lesson he'd like to tell

His fellow comrades

And subordinates

It's that putting on a white coat

And picking up a rifle

Does not make you the hero

Or the good guy

It just makes you a guy

In a white coat

With a gun

(What you _do_ with that gun, on the other hand...)

.

He'd also like to tell them

(And this lesson seems even harder)

That putting a black flag

Atop your mast

Does not make you evil

It makes you a person

Flying a black flag

.

He has seen the horrors of the world

He has seen young recruits

Open fire on ships

Full of children like them

He has seen pirates burn and slaughter

Entire islands

He has seen death

In all it's forms-

Smelt burning flesh

Heard the cries of the dying

Felt the blood of others stick to his hands

Tasted the ash and despair

And seen the twisted expressions

Of men and women frozen solid where they stood

He wants to tell every young man

Or woman

Who walks through a seagull painted door

That with just a few twists

A few different choices

They could've easily been

One of the faces

Coated in ice

That he sometimes sees

When he closes his eyes

Rather than a wide eyed innocent

Given a gun

And a white coat

And told to go save the world

.

He usually thinks of himself

As a laid back sort of person

He enjoys sunny days

And hot baths

(Which surprises most people)

He would use the word 'chill'

If it didn't sound so much like a bad pun

.

He'd like to say a lot of things

But he knows

That they will fall on deaf ears

So he just relaxes

Slows his step a little

And whenever words like 'Strawhat' and 'close by'

Come in over the phone

On a ship he's commanding

He pretends to take a nap

.

(Because when he thinks of that boy-captain

A certain dark-haired woman

And all the countries and people who will sing them praises

He decides

Perhaps Justice and Freedom

White coats and black flags

Aren't all that different)

Absolute justice

For absolute evil

The color of cloth

Doesn't decide that


	23. Law: Hating

Request XxFire-PhionexxX

* * *

 **(The Art of Hating)**

* * *

He wants the world to burn

And rip itself apart

In a column of smoke

He wants every goddamn marine

And pirate

And citizen

Everything down to the last bacteria

To turn to ash

.

He'd like to think

He's one of those people

Who would've given up on life

But was not so weak

As to surrender

To blissful darkness

He turned it all outwards

Onto every other life

Than his own

(He thinks it makes him strong,

But somewhere,

In the back of his mind,

He knows it might mean

He's actually weaker)

.

He wants the world to drown

To scramble for the surface

To beg for life

And he wants to be the one

Standing in the boat

Grinding his foot

Into their desperate fingers

.

He'd like to think

This makes him ruthless

A heart made of iron in his chest

(If he has a heart at all)

He will do what needs to be done

(But somewhere,

In the back of his mind,

He knows this might just mean

His walls are made of glass

And he must send those people

Back into the ocean without mercy

Else his heart may shatter)

.

He wants the world to suffocate

To choke on their own sins

So that every single person

Can taste their wrongdoings

As they receive punishment

For what they've done

.

(He'd like to think

This will be the final reckoning

And his hate will be at peace

But somewhere,

In the back of his mind,

He suspects it wont make him feel better

In fact, he suspects

He will be clawing for air

Along with everyone else)

.

He want's the world to be crushed

Mountains of rock

To obliterate every sign of life

Every building

And tree

So that a new world is born

One without mistakes or sins

And humanity can try again

.

He'd like to think

This will solve all problems

All death and cruelty and hate

(But somewhere,

In the back of his mind,

He has a feeling

That wouldn't solve anything

Because humans are humans

No matter how many times

The world is born over)

.

He wants the world to perish

In a sea of sickness

He wants every goddamn marine

And pirate

And citizen

To sweat and cry

Over the pain

Of their skin turning pale

He wants every living soul

To perish

In a wave of wrath

And he will watch,

His white skinned hands trembling,

As his cry is answered

.

He'd like to think

That's all he wants

The true vengeance

Against everything

And that his hate will fade away

(But somewhere,

In the back of his mind,

He knows that's only the first part

Because after they fall in sickness

And are begging for death

He wants to cure them

Because, no matter how much

He wants the world to burn

Or drown

Or suffocate

Or be crushed

He wants them to learn a lesson even more

So that never again

Will a little boy

Loose his parents

And little sister

To human cruelty)

.

He's just stuck on step one


	24. Coby: Escaping

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Escaping)**

* * *

He's just a nobody

A piece of dust or dirt

Swimming around a world

Far too big for him

Sure, he has dreams,

But who pays attention to those?

(Certainly not him)

.

He's just a boy

Unfortunate with cicumstance

Trying to survive

He might put his dreams on hold,

But that's not a crime, is it?

(He hopes it doesn't ruin him)

.

It isn't until

Another boy

Not much older than him

(Though he acts like a child)

Comes along

Talking about escaping

And following his dream

To be King

And he tells the other boy

That escaping

Making it out to follow his own dream

Is impossible

.

Then he wonders:

What happened to him?

Where's the kid

Who'd grip a bedsheet around him shoulders,

And pretend it was a coat for the marines?

(Since when did he start thinking

His dream was impossible?

.

When the other boy hit's him on the head,

Saying he doesn't like people

Who are weak or cowardly

Despite the pain

('Cause this kid punches _hard_ )

He has to agree

(Nothing makes him happier

Than the moment

The boy- the _pirate_ \- drags him off

Talking about how he'll be a marine)

.

When he was a kid,

And someone asked him what he wanted to do in life,

He'd say 'Become a marine' very softly,

Just in case they were pirates

.

When he was older

And stuck on that ship

He thought was going to be his grave

If someone asked him what he wanted to be

When he got older

(Not that any one of that hellish crew

Would ever care enough

To ask)

Then he would've said 'Nobody'

Because that's exactly what

He thought he would always be

.

A little later, if someone asked him,

He would've said 'A marine'

Because a boy- a friend- had saved him

Helped him escape a life he never thought he would

But it'll be a little while

Before he can truly exchange white bedsheets

For his dream

(He's not quite there yet,

But he's closer than ever)

.

Now, if someone asked him

What he wanted to be

He'd say 'Nothing'

Because if they were talking to him

Standing at his side

Then they could see

His white coat

And the ship he's on

Then they'd know

He's become a marine

.

Now, for the sake of his comrades

His friends (marines and pirates alike)

And himself,

If someone asked him what he wanted to do,

He'd say

'Get stronger'

(Because he is not a nobody anymore,

It's his dream,

And nothing is impossible)

.

An old friend taught him that


	25. Brook: Surviving

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Surviving)**

* * *

Were he a saner man

Then when their voices

Call out to him through the darkness

And fog

He'd go happily

.

Needless to say, he is not sane

And neither does he go to them

He cannot trust his own mind

So why should he trust

What he thinks he hears?

.

He makes his way through life-

Or death, really-

(They're practically one and the same now

So it doesn't really matter)

Trying to pass the time

Sometimes, when he's playing,

He can almost hear their accompaniment

(He may be forgetting

What his Nakama's voices sounded like

But he'll never forget the music they played

If only for the reminders

In the long pauses and beats of rest

During some songs

That just accent the silence)

He practices, day after day,

Becoming the masterful musician

He always wanted to be

(He's not vain,

So it doesn't bother him

That no one is there to congratulate him

Or be in awe of his skill,

He's just sad

He never has an audience)

.

Ships will occasionally drift by

The first time, he was thrilled

It was the human contact

He'd always wanted

Soon, he realized

The only thing worse than eternal solitude

Is eternal loneliness

Because there is a difference

Between no one else being around

And always being alone

He'd always fit in before

As a musician

A pirate

A man

He was never an outcast

Being thrown into the roll of one

So violently

Would shake anyone's foundations

( _Devil fruits are one of a kind_

Someone once explained

 _There's no one else_

He translated)

.

When he's not playing

The silence of the fog

And blackened sea

Seems to crescendo

To an unbearable volume

Until he feels he would give anything

Just to break it

(Guns under the chin

Or to the temple

Don't work-

He doesn't have brains to blow!

Yohohoho!)

So he laughs

Or sings

Or plays

Life is merry,

The seas are vast

Adventure goes on forever!

(What is there not to laugh about?)

.

He cleans his violin

Constantly

As often as he thinks a day has passed

(Sometimes, it's every few hours,

While other times,

His 'day' lasts weeks)

He knows it will crumble

And turn to dust eventually

(Everything does

Minds and skin and bonds and hope

But he sincerely hopes

Bone crumbles before wood)

.

Were he a saner man

When he feels fingers brush his own

As he plays the piano

(Almost like the ghost

Of another song)

When he smells the clear, warm air

Of a summer sea

When he sees their figures in the fog

At the piano, or dancing happily

When he tastes the flavor

Of fresh food and ripe fruit

When he hears the sound

Of piano music

Or cello notes

Or the sharp twang

Of guitar

Then he would go to them

And run into the sea

.

But he is not a sane man

And he does not dive into the waters

For he is afraid

He would survive, even then,

And he is hopeful, that if he doesn't,

He will survive

Until the day someone comes along

And gives him a chance

So that he can live

* * *

This is the second update today due to the fact I didn't get one posted yesterday. Sorry about that, and thanks for your support! Now is probably a good time to, **if you already requested someone you really want to read for, re-request them**. I'm doing my best with old requests, but **it's hard to know which characters people still want to read, and I don't want to chose your least favorite one a second time** (or something to that affect). **Re-requesting is completely fine, and if I'm honest, some of the older suggestions might appear sooner that way.** Otherwise, it might take longer to get around to them (though they are still on my list).

Thanks for reading, and for your eternal patience with requests! I hope you've enjoyed these poems so far.

Happy


	26. Usopp: Lying

Request by Monkey D. Anea

* * *

 **(The Art of Lying)**

* * *

In his life, he's lied

About a lot of things

From what color his hair really was

To how many toes

Are on his left foot

.

But there's one thing

He'll never lie about

.

When it comes to his captain

He both loves and hates him

He loves him for who he is

Bravery and trust and happiness

All wrapped up

Into one person

He finds it funny

That if he described his adventures

To the people

In the town where he grew up

The thing they would find most unbelievable

Would probably be his crazy, wonderful captain

(After all, what kind of man

Saves country after country

Yet despises the idea of being a hero?

'You're slipping' they would tell him)

.

He hates his captain

Because he's Brave and trusting and happy

Sometimes all at the wrong time

Where, in the face of danger

That would make any other captain

Run with their tail between their legs

(Or at least a strategic retreat),

His captain laughs and yells with glee

.

(Okay, he did lie.

He doesn't hate his captain at all,

They just sometimes… disagree

About the gravity of the situation)

.

He does worry about his friend, though

Because even he knows how outrageous

Some of his lies are

(Even if it is all about the delivery)

And yet his captain hangs

Upon every word

That, in itself, doesn't worry him

Not in the slightest

(In fact,

It does wonders for his ego)

But what it means

Does make him second guess

Because if this boy- his best friend-

Believes every word he says

Who's to say he doesn't believe

Every word another person says?

( _The possibilities are endless_ ,

He would say,

If he were the villain of this story

But he isn't;

He's not even the main character

And his captain's trust terrifies him

He only wants his friend

To never be hurt)

(Sometimes, he tells extra unbelievable lies

The ones that the swordsman

Sitting in the corner

Rolls his eyes at, even when sleeping

Just to see

Yet the boy just laughs

Crying and holding his stomache

Insisting he finish the story

And he never knew bananas

Could be used like that)

He pastes on a smile

And continues

.

His worry is not relieved

Until they come across a man

Who demands to see the captain of the ship

When his friend comes out

The man tells a story of woe

And sadness

And lost friends

Begging to help

He is about to speak up

Because the man is a liar-

A very, very good one-

One that his captain

Would never be able to pick out

.

Until the boy-

His wonderful, gullible friend-

Declares the man is stupid

'Cause there's no way that story is real-

And before the guy

Can pull out the gun

Tucked in his holster

His captain's already sent him flying

.

When he asks, the boy laughs

Just like he does

At all his stories and lies

That he never seems to notice

And says that he's Nakama,

And the lies Nakama tell

Do not hurt him

So he doesn't bother finding them

.

He's lied a lot, in his life,

But there's one thing he won't lie about

(At least, in the future,

When they've all achieved their dreams)

He won't lie

About who his captain is

What kind of man

He sails under

Because that boy

Is reckless and crazy and wonderful

And the best friend in the world

.

There are a few things

That are so completely true

It's impossible to lie about them

Even if people think you're lying regardless

.

His captain is one of them


	27. Robin: Recording

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Recording)**

* * *

She hides bits of paper

Everywhere

In-between the pages

Of books she's only read once

And ones she's read

A thousand times

Inside journals

And drawers

She's taped them

To the bottom of desks

And dressers

And on the back wall of her closet

.

They usually don't say much

Sometimes nothing more

Than grocery lists

Or a recording

Of how much her green haired friend

Owes their navigator

But they mean something to her

.

When she was young

And old men told stories

Of how history is lost to time

And the greed of humans

She decided

That if she ever had her own chapter in history

There would be something written there

.

So while they are sometimes just doodles

And tidbits of information

(The name of the coffee vendor

On that summer island

Is tucked behind her desk)

They are also sometimes important

fragments of her life in writing

More precious than she can say

.

When she was little

Still on the run

She would write her mother's

And her best friend's names

On a little scrap of paper

And leave it on every island

She ever came across

So that not even the government

Could bury their existence in history

.

Soon, it becomes more than just a record

Of names

Of the people she loved

She wrote pieces of advice

She never told anyone

Secrets

She was never meant to hear

Titles of books she enjoyed

But couldn't take with her

Her life is slowly written down,

Piece by piece

(She's a realist,

But there's something

Undeniably magical about that)

Sometimes, she imagines historians

Hundreds of years from now

Giving a name

To the mysterious girl

Who left little notes

All over the world

(And someone might even

Write a chapter about her

In one of their books)

.

By nature, and occupation,

She's organized

Looking at her,

You wouldn't imagine

That she has twenty-three recipes

Inside her jewelry box

Or the names

Of every ship she's sailed on

.

The only surprising thing

Is when she sits down

To write a list

Of the people she loves

To leave on the island

Separating them from the new world

And finds herself misjudging time

What before

Only took a second or two

Now takes up an entire page

.

Being a historian

She should be good with dates

But she doesn't remember what time

She realized

That the list of people she loved

Was longer than two names

.

She hopes someday

A little girl

Will look inside a very old box

Or under a rock

Or inside the pages of her new (old) book

And find a little scrap of paper

Written in a child's scrawl

With a tiny bit of history

Not even time can erase

.

She's already wanted to disappear once

She couldn't take it anymore

Her last chance at the truth

Was for nothing

Yet a boy saved her

A captain

He convinced her that living wasn't so bad

He forced her to see

That the world

Was a wonder worth experiencing

He gave her hope

And dreams

And life

.

The least she could do

Is make sure

That what came of his actions

Becomes it's own chapter in history

Because he will become King

(And as a historian

She would kill

To have the grocery list

Of a man like that)

If only to thank him

For making the number of names

She leaves

In books she's only read once

And ones she's read

A thousand times

Inside journals

And drawers

On the bottom of desks

And dressers

And on the back wall of her closet

A little bit longer


	28. Nami: Stealing

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Stealing)**

* * *

Sometimes,

She looks in her pocket

And finds somebody else's wallet

It's one thing when you do it on purpose

But it's entirely different when it's an accident

(She thinks that says more

about her personality

Than she'd like it to)

.

She's lived most of her life

Looking for money

There's no better way to remind her

Of all her failings

Than to point out that money

Doesn't buy you happiness

(She already has enough doubt)

.

(She'd disagree, though,

That money can't buy you happines

Because nothing would make her happier

Than paying off her debt)

.

It's a simple fact of life:

Eat, sleep, collect

Steal

Con

Lie and swindle

Her life is one big manual

Of how to go to jail

.

Every time she reaches another million

She has a small celebration

Goes to a restaurant

Or buys a new coat

And she promises herself

That when she pays off her debt

She'll never shop in the bargain bin

Or the cheapest stores again

(It almost makes her cry

When she's at the restaurant,

Having a good time,

Before she notices

the gold watch

Belonging to the man

Next to her at the bar

Is inside her purse)

.

Practice makes perfect

And if you practice perfectly,

It becomes instinct

She never would've thought stealing

Would become a second nature

But she can't help but feel

That to make room for this new part of herself

Something else had to give

And she doesn't want to know what it was

.

Sometimes,

If she's on a new island

And isn't paying attention to where she's going

She finds herself in front of casinos

Or poker dens

Almost like she can smell money

From miles away

Which seems kind of shady and despicable

.

Someday, when her debts paid off,

She'd like to be the kind of person

Who gives money to charity

But considering the kind of person she is now

That probably won't happen

.

She'll settle for being a little less desperate

She'll pickpocket for a challenge

And go to casinos

To have a good time

Because if she can't be a good person

Then she can at least enjoy herself

While being bad

(She wishes the sight of gold

Didn't make her drool

But as despicable as it is, it's her life:

The Manual of Stealing)


	29. Marco: Losing

Request by XxFire-PhoenixxX

* * *

 **(The Art of Losing)**

* * *

He thought he knew pain

Love was perhaps beyond him

Far out of his reach

But suffering was his life

Familiar as a mirror

.

No one had told him

Not old men who talk of love

Or kids with parents

That love is just the sea salt

Being rubbed into your wounds

.

No one had told him

That the love for family

Was so sharp and strong

Barbed wire around your heart

That cuts and chafes with the loss

.

He has lost brothers

To the wide expanse of sea

And to enemies

But never before has love

Been so sharp and strong as now

.

Sea salt in his wounds

And they are gaping open

Exposing the nerves

Barbed wire against his soul

(He didn't know pain at all)

.

Now, nothing beats this

The loss has left him drowning

And the whole ocean

Salty and free, is pouring

Straight into where it hurts most

.

He is the phoenix

Never dying, never hurt

His skin is fire

And he is born of ashes

And falls in ashes again

.

He is strong and sharp

But even he cannot fly

His skin cannot burn

When he is drowning in this

He can fall, but cannot rise

.

Fathers and brothers

Familiar as a mirror

Taught him what love was

Love is not so far from reach

When his family is near

.

Fathers and brothers

They taught him what love felt like

But no one told him

Love that felt so good could _hurt_

Sharp and strong, salt in your wounds

.

They never told him

But he doesn't really mind

Even as tears drip

Salt on his skin, in his wounds

That no one ever mentioned it

.

Because if they had

He would've loved them all still

Not beyond him now,

Love can be sharp and strong

And he yet doesn't regret

.

(There's salt in his wounds

He cannot fly or burn now

But love is greater

Than all of his pain and loss

Family is worth _all of it_ )


	30. Kunia: Fighting

...

 **(The Art of Fighting)**

She lives life

With a vengeance

All spikes and steel

She looks at swords

And sees herself

Cold and sharp and ready to fight

.

Everyone insists that she's flawed

A chip in her edge

'If only you were a boy'

Her father says

And doesn't that hurt

She isn't a boy

But she is prepared

To show everyone that doesn't matter

.

When she meets the boy

She can't help but feel uneasy

And happy, too

He's a friend

(Or as close as it gets)

But she can feel his potential

He just needs a little push

To send him on his way

And she's not sure

She could keep up

(Which is why

She doubles her training

And always agrees to a fight)

.

She lives like a lion

All fearsome and strong

She just wishes

Everyone knew

That it's the female lions

Who hunt

.

She fights like a fighter,

thank you very much

It's not

'Like a woman'

Or

'Pretty good, for a girl'

It's not even

'Like she's a boy'

She fights better than all of them

.

When she fights the kid

He swings with a frenzy

Anger and strength

Bottled up in every blow

She doesn't think he notices

Every day

Her sword gives a little more

At the strike of his blade

(But it makes her happy

Because she's fairly certain

He is getting stronger

Rather than she getting weaker)

She hopes he never has to see her lose

To someone she has every right to win against

Because of her gender

(This more than anything

Causes her to curse fate)

.

She fights him every day

And makes him promise

One of them will be the greatest

Because she wants to know

When she gets older

The exact day

The Greatest Swordsman in the World

Was born

.

She lives life

All spikes and steel

And the world won't give her a break

.

But she wasn't expecting one,

And wouldn't have it any other way

She will clash and bend and maybe even chip

.

But she will not break


	31. Marine: Realizing

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Realizing)**

* * *

When he first finds himself

Standing in front of the doors

That will lead him

To the rest of his life

He'd be lying if he said

He wasn't a little scared

.

Seastone walls

Stretch out

Like giant arms

To hug the fortress

Windows, like eyes,

Peer down at him

And the giant gate

Is almost a mouth

Posing a question

' _Are you worthy?_ '

.

He's dreamed of this

Since he was a child

Open seas

And justice

His dad would always talk about

How great marines were

Fighting for the right thing

And all that

.

He's tried hard

And done well enough

When he was younger,

He dreamed of being the hero

You know,

The knight in shining armor

(Or a white coat)

Sweeping in

To save the day

And knock out the bad guys

With one punch

(His dad never told him

That heroes

Are often born

With so much strength

They're monsters)

.

He's guided to a small, boxy room

Not bad,

But nothing like home

His dad never told him about this bit

Either

People talk about Admirals

Like they're gods

He wants to say

There's no way they're that strong

They are only human, after all

(It's not until his first trip to sea

With one of the Admirals on board

As he watches the man

Freezes an entire fleet of pirate ships solid

With just a wave of his hand

That he decides they aren't gods

But they are most certainly

Not human)

.

He's always had

A deep-seated dislike of pirates

His father told him stories

Of atrocities

That happened in the age

Of the last King

Like any kid, he wanted

The bad guys to lose

And the good guys

To come out on top

.

It's not until his twentieth trip

Out to sea

That he realizes

Perhaps the world

Isn't so black and white

('Cause looking at this kid

He looks like a big grey area

Dressed in a red shirt

Blue shorts

And a yellow straw hat)

.

Mostly, marine life

Is pretty boring

But the exciting times

Are what worries him

During one such time

He's gripping his gun so tight

He thinks it might snap

The smoke is killing his lungs

And he'd be surprised

If he wakes up tomorrow

The town is crushed

The people are mostly dead

The man who slept a few bunks down

Is gaping at him

With sightless eyes

There's a child

Bleeding out in his arms

Who hasn't even twitched in the last hour

And the corpses

Seem to open their mouths as he passes

And ask

' _Are you worthy?_ '

.

His head is light from smoke,

And he's oh so very tired

He'd be lying if he said

He wasn't a little grateful

When his legs give out

His father never mentioned this part

And as the flames rise around him

He waves his hand

But no ice comes forth

To freeze the tongues of fire

That ask

 _'Are you worthy?'_

 _._

He is not a pirate

He is not a monster

He's just a little kid

With a blanket tied around his neck

And an imaginary foe

Who falls at his cardboard blade

Because the good guys always win

 _'Are you worthy?'_

 _._

'No.'


	32. Kid: Killing

...

* * *

 **(The Art of Killing)**

* * *

I was on a ship with Captain Kid

Marine's showed up and he blew his lid

He's says they're all broken, all twisted and wrong,

So how many heads can the captain screw on?

.

One, two, three, four

Captain Kid knocked at my door

Five, six, seven, eight

Goodbye family, it's too late

.

I was in a prison with Captain Kid

All the other prisoners just ran and hid

He says they're weak, and ugly 'cause they pout

So how many frowns can the captain hammer out?

.

One, two, three, four

Captain kid knocked at my door

Five, six, seven, eight

Goodbye mommy, it's to late

.

I was on an island with Captain Kid

He warned 'Don't try and fight!' but they all did

He says they're restless, and their hate won't settle

So how many people can the captain fill full of metal?

.

One, two, three, four

Captain kid knocked at my door

Five, six, seven, eight

Goodbye daddy, it's too late

.

I was in a bounty bar with Captain Kid

He's got a bounty on his head, the highest on the grid

He says hunters are brainless, they just goof-off

So how many heads can the captain saw off?

.

One, two, three, four

Captain kid knocked at my door

Five, six, seven, eight

Goodbye sister, it's too late

.

I once was sailing with Captain Kid

He goes to all the islands that people forbid

He says they've got no backbone, too frail and nice

So how many spines can the captain vice?

.

One, two, three, four

Captain kid knocked at my door

Five, six, seven, eight

Goodbye brother, it's too late

.

I was on the ocean with the red-haired Captain

I'm a silly little kid, so I slapped him

He's said I was stupid, my mistake to try and fight

But don't you worry; the Captain can fix me up right!

.

One, two, three, four

Captain kid knocked at my door

Five, six, seven, eight

It's far too little, far too late

* * *

Hello again. Sorry. Life happens. Here's a poem.

I considered posting this to what I was thinking about for a sequel to this series, one about the 11 supernovas. Then I realized, at the pace One Piece is going right now, it will probably take ten years before there's enough information on all of them to write poems about their characters.

I can't make any guarantees on continuing to update, though if this is any indication, find solace in the fact that even months without updating won't deter me from trying again.

Happy


End file.
